No matter what lies ahead, the Pouncey brothers are in this together (2024)

If Chargers center Mike Pouncey never takes another snap in the National Football League, Steelers center Maurkice Pouncey will be playing for two.

The identical twins have lived the same dream from the first time they put on helmets as 6-year-olds. They have won eight championships at various levels and made a combined 11 Pro Bowls in the NFL. Their teams were separated by 2,400 miles, but nothing in the game has ever come between them.

The shared journey might have come to an end last Sunday when Mike suffered a neck injury that ended his season and could end his career. Mike traveled to Pittsburgh this week for medical consultation. Maurkice, meanwhile, is traveling to Los Angeles to play Mike’s Chargers.

The Pouncey Bowl was supposed to be a joyous, boisterous event with many family members flying in. They were expecting laughter, char-grilled meat, tall boys and hugs aplenty.

Now, it will be a subdued Sunday.

The twins have experienced these emotions before.

After a series of hip injuries, Mike was diagnosed with avascular necrosis – the Bo Jackson injury. His doctor told him he was done with football in 2016.

After some trepidation, Mike had come to accept it. But one more opinion couldn’t hurt, so in the spring of 2017, he made an appointment with Bryan Kelly, surgeon-in-chief at the Hospital of Special Surgeries in New York City.

He would not go alone. Maurkice insisted on flying with him from Phoenix, where the brothers were attending NFLPA meetings.

“I remember sitting in the office with my brother, waiting for the doctor, thinking football was over at the peak of my career,” Mike says. “Then, the doctor came in. He told me it’s fixable, they could do stem cell surgery, and I would be able to play again.”

It was an emotional moment, but they held it together – until their Uber drove away.

Maurkice: “I didn’t want to go crazy in (the doctor’s office), but as soon as we got in the Uber ride, I’m like, ‘This just makes me want to cry.’”

Mike: “We cried the whole way in the Uber, two grown men. That Uber driver had to think, ‘These dudes are crazy.’”

The brothers Pouncey are bonded in a way that most people could not understand.

In addition to coming from one egg, one womb, and one bedroom, they were classmates and teammates for most of their lives.

From kindergarten through their junior year of college, they took every class together except one, when Maurkice enrolled in bowling as a college freshman.

They were on the same football team for 15 years. One season, Maurkice played quarterback and Mike played running back. They won four little league Super Bowls. At Lakeland Senior High School in Florida, they moved to offensive line and won three state championships. They went to the University of Florida together, won a national championship and had an absolute ball.

They have helped each other through some dark times as well.

They were in the training room at Florida in 2008 when their mother, Lisa, called sobbing. Their stepfather, Rob Webster (whom the twins consider to be their father), had been loading animal feed on a rail car when his foot got caught on the tracks, and the car’s brakes failed. His leg was mangled and destroyed. He was in a coma in the ICU.

The drive to Lakeland Regional Medical Center seemed like the longest two-and-a-half hours of their lives. By the time their father woke a couple of days later, they had been joined by their head coach Urban Meyer, offensive coordinator Steve Addazio, defensive coordinator Charlie Strong and others.

They told their father they were there for him. He told them to go beat Florida State. They did, and dedicated the victory to Webster.

At Florida, tight end Aaron Hernandez roomed with them, and the three became so close he was known as “the third Pouncey twin.” Anywhere Mike and Maurkice went, Hernandez went too.

Years later, when Hernandez was imprisoned for murder, Mike and Maurkice dialed him up almost every night for a three-way call in which Hernandez would use about 30 to 40 minutes of his allotted 60 minutes of phone time. “When you are talking with someone who is sitting in a jail cell for 24 hours of the day, you bring up the same conversation,” Mike says. “You bring up the good times you had. He was in there two, three years, and we’d talk about the same four or five topics for two-three years, just to keep his mind right, to keep him positive and looking forward.”

Hernandez was arrested in 2013 when he played for the New England Patriots and charged with the murder of Odin Lloyd, who was found shot to death near Hernandez’s home and had been dating the sister of Hernandez’s fiancée. Hernandez was convicted of first-degree murder in 2015 and sentenced to life in prison without parole. In April 2017, Hernandez was acquitted of separate murder charges from a 2012 double homicide in Boston. He hanged himself days later in his prison cell.

Maurkice and Mike attended Hernandez’s funeral together in Bristol, Conn.

“We had no indication that it would happen,” Mike says of Hernandez’s suicide. “He had just gone through the second trial and won, and he was going to get an appeal on the other one. In our mind, there was light at the end of the tunnel… To see it end that way, it was tough.”

Said Maurkice, “We tried to hold everything in… When you lose somebody so close to you… it just sucks.”

They grieve together still.

They were criticized during Hernandez’s incarceration for wearing “Free Hernandez” hats. It was one of a few off-field incidents. They also were accused of assault at a Miami Beach nightclub, but no charges were filed. Mike was implicated in the Ted Wells report for joining Dolphins teammate Richie Incognito in bullying teammate Jonathan Martin.

They say maturing together has been gratifying. “We were knuckleheads early in our careers,” Mike says. “We made a lot of mistakes. We did things we wish we could have back. But I feel we’ve learned from our mistakes. I feel we cleared our names up and became better people.”

Most of their memories are pleasant. Some of their most enjoyable shared experiences in recent years have been family vacations with Maurkice’s kids Jayda and Marley and Mike’s kids Kayden, Janiyh and Janiah. This past offseason, they went to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and Atlantis in the Bahamas. They also have taken their families to the Pro Bowls they have played in.

They work out together in Florida in the offseason, often twice a day. And on those days when one of them isn’t feeling it, the other is there to push.

They always watch the other’s games. It’s mostly because they are each other’s fans, but there’s more than that. They want to study how the other is playing.

“I would go back and teach him some of the tips I learned from Coach Munch [Mike Munchak] because he was a Hall of Fame player,” Maurkice says of the Steelers’ former offensive line coach. “When we talk on the phone, it’s never about anything but football, especially when football season is here.”

When Maurkice shortened his stance, Mike did the same thing. “I mold myself after him every year,” Mike says.

They also talk about common opponents, how defenses attack, and the strengths and weaknesses of players they block.

Mike nearly became Maurkice’s teammate on the Steelers twice.

Maurkice says in 2011, his team was trying to trade up from the 31st pick of the draft to the 16th pick with the intent of drafting his brother. But while they were talking to the Redskins about the trade, the Dolphins chose Mike with the 15th pick. “The (Steelers) called me right after,” Maurkice says.

Then, after Mike was cut by the Dolphins in 2017, the Steelers expressed an interest, and Mike was intrigued. But the Steelers had two established guards at the time, and they couldn’t offer Mike what the Chargers did. “Mike Tomlin always joked that if I ever became a free agent, he was going to come get me,” Mike says. “It just wasn’t the right fit. It was a good thought, though.”

Mike was feeling fast after racing his girlfriend and winning.

So he talked some smack to his Maurkice, whom he calls “Kees.”

Mike: “Hey, Kees, you know I had a faster 40 time than you at the combine.”

Maurkice: “I didn’t train for the 40 at the combine because I was hurt.”

Mike: “Don’t matter, I was still faster than you.”

Maurkice: “That was 10 years ago. That don’t count.”

Back and forth it went for two days, bickering brothers.

Finally, they decided to settle it.

The 30-year-olds lined up in the street in front of Mike’s house in South Florida, right behind his mailbox. With Mike’s two kids and Maurkice’s three kids watching, they raced to the neighbor’s mailbox, a distance of about 25 yards.

Maurkice edged Mike.

Mike insisted they run one more time.

Maurkice won again.

“Never been more crushed in my life,” Mike says. “I was sick.”

A scorecard is being kept.

Mike is 3-0 in games he played against Maurkice.

Maurkice has been voted All-Pro five times. Mike has never been an All-Pro.

Maurkice won the Rimington Trophy as the best center in college football. Mike did not.

Mike was chosen 15th the 2011 draft, three spots ahead of where Maurkice was selected the year before.

Mike has a college degree. Maurkice does not.

Maurkice is stronger. His max bench press is 425. Mike’s is 385.

Mike, at 6-5, is close to an inch taller.

Maurkice is five pounds heavier at 290.

Mike is older – by one minute. Maurkice says it’s because he sent his brother out first.

Maurkice has a better hairline. Mike’s is receding.

Mike is a better dancer. Or so he claims.

When they play a video game, it usually doesn’t last long. One of them gets angry and accuses the other of cheating before throwing down the controller. When they watch CNN together, one of them typically will take a position, the other will take the opposite side, and an argument will ensue.

If they play basketball, they have to be on the same team. When they were in high school, they were on opposing sides in a pickup game with their father and a friend. After Mike took it to the hoop and scored, Maurkice became enraged. He snatched the ball and announced he was going inside. Mike tried to stop him.

Then it was on.

Maurkice: “We probably got three hits apiece. He popped one of my chains, so that kind of pissed me off. There was a little blood. He got a good little punch in my mouth.

“I won.”

Mike: “It was one of those fights, you get him down, you want to hit him, but you’re like, ‘Ahhhhh,’ and you don’t hit him. ‘Dad, break it up.’ We mostly rolled around on the ground.

“I won.”

That was the only time in 30 years the twins have exchanged blows.

It is much more natural for them to be fighting side by side than face to face.

In the offseason the brothers purchased a boat together, a magnificent 43-foot Midnight Express. It’s docked in South Florida, ready for a party at the sand bar.

On its side is the name: 2 Of A Kind.

When the twins were born, their mother couldn’t tell them apart. She kept their hospital bands on their wrists for a month to help. But eventually, the bands had to come off. At that point, she still was struggling to know who was whom.

“So in all reality,” Lisa says, “Michael might be Maurkice and Maurkice might be Michael.”

Their own children sometimes mistake one for the other. Mike and Maurkice will play along until they are busted, and one of the kids says, “Aw, you’re not my dad.”

When older family members aren’t sure which twin they are addressing, they say, “Hey Mikemaurkice.” Two people, one name.

Lisa says she can’t distinguish their voices on the phone. “I called Maurkice and Michael answered,” Lisa says. “I thought I was talking to Maurkice.”

They were inseparable as kids. When one started crawling (mom can’t remember which), the other latched onto his diaper and learned to crawl from his brother.

The twins wore the same outfits until they were about 8 years old when they told mom they didn’t like that. They still don’t. In the offseason, Maurkice sometimes stays at Mike’s place. When they meet in front of the house for a 6:30 a.m. workout, they occasionally show up wearing the same outfit, 6 years old all over again. “One of us has to run back in and change clothes,” Mike says.

Between the two of them, there is one charity, The Team Pouncey Foundation. Between football camps, back to school drives, Thanksgiving turkey giveaways and Christmas dinners, Mike and Maurkice work to help disadvantaged young people in central Florida.

Barbecued chicken every night would be fine with both of them. Neither one of them will eat anything with a tomato or an onion on it. They both put ketchup on everything, including macaroni and cheese.

Mike’s favorite restaurant is Japan Inn. Maurkice’s favorite restaurant is Japan Inn.

Even their goatees are indistinguishable.

When they were college teammates, Mike played guard and Maurkice played center. But all the while, Mike was a center waiting to happen. When Maurkice left Florida a year before his brother, Mike moved into his center spot.

Maurkice always wore No. 53, and Mike wore 51. After Mike was cut by the Dolphins and signed with the Chargers, he changed to 53. Now their parents can wear a jersey that’s half Steelers, half Chargers with one name and number.

Among the many things the brothers share is a tattoo on their right hands: Am I my brother’s keeper. “I take it like I’ll be there for him no matter what,” Maurkice says.

Maurkice also has a tattoo of Mike in his Dolphins uniform on his left calf, and Mike has a tattoo of Maurkice’s face on his left upper back.

When one of them wins, the other is happy.

Mike, for instance, was not upset the three times Maurkice made the Pro Bowl but he did not. “I feel the success he’s had, I’ve been a piece of it,” Mike says. “I’ve been the one who has been there every single day when people aren’t watching to help him get better.”

Maurkice says he looks up to Mike. Mike says Maurkice is his hero and someone he has long admired.

When they are apart, the twins text and talk every day on the phone or via FaceTime for an hour or more. They say things to each other they wouldn’t say to anybody else.

“After a loss, you want to get things off your chest, but you don’t want to be negative around your teammates,” Mike says. “But I can call my brother and be salty. I can vent to him.”

More than brothers, they are best friends. Their most challenging year was when Maurkice left Florida early, and they were separated for the first time in their lives.

They have given each other lavish presents. When Maurkice was drafted, he bought his brother an expensive watch. When Mike signed with the Chargers, he gave Maurkice a Cuban gold chain with diamonds. And when Maurkice signed a contract extension earlier this year, he covered Mike’s portion of a shared investment – a six-figure gift.

It is not difficult to understand why their girlfriends can get jealous. “They say, ‘You love your brother more than you love me,’” Mike says. “Well, I’ve been with him my whole life, so it’s kind of hard not to.”

The Dolphins had just beaten the Browns in the 2013 season opener in Cleveland. As Mike walked off the field, he had a bad feeling about his brother.

As soon as he could, he called Maurkice. His brother had suffered a severe knee injury in the Steelers’ opener.

Maurkice: “How did you know?”

Mike: “I knew something was wrong, I just knew it.”

The brothers say they have a sixth sense about the other. They are especially attuned to when the other is feeling disappointment.

“I just hope he doesn’t feel pain when I get hurt,” Maurkice says.

Now Mike will have season-ending surgery, and Maurkice is hurting. But this is a resilient family.

“We’ve been blessed, so it is what it is,” Lisa says. “We always bounce back.”

The future is hazy for the Pouncey family. But whatever happens, Mike and Maurkice will be together.As they always have been.

(Philip G. Pavely / USA Today Sports)